Harry Potter and the Legacy of Merlin
by Dumbledore
Summary: just updated one last time before i totally revamp to correct for book 5... hopefully you'll get an idea of what my story is about and read it when i come out with the corrected version. or you can simply wait (as i would do :) )
1. Chapter 00 (Prolouge)

Prologue  
  
Outside the weather was abnormally violent. It was the night before the spring equinox, and a full moon besides. Magic was stronger than ever this night to the point where even muggles could feel something in the air. Winds rocked the drawbridge of the mighty castle that was the home of the ruler of Camelot, but it somehow managed to stay in place despite the efforts of the furious storm. From a small room in the north-east tower of the great fortress, one could see a strange glow emanating through the window and even the stone walls. Inside was the room was one of the oldest and mightiest wizards of all time, and he was working furiously with great concentration. The old wizard's blue eyes were blazing with a strange inner light of concentration as he slowly stirred the strange bubbling red-orange mixture in his cauldron all the while muttering a strange incantation. Fizis expnacto heri!! he suddenly yelled out just as the bubbles were getting high enough to almost spill out of the cauldron, and simultaneously stopped stirring.   
  
The First Wizard of Camelot picked up a long, carefully carved rod placed on a table next to where he was standing. The ivory-colored staff was long and smooth and had two figures etched on the top. One was a fierce looking dragon with glittering emerald eyes. Facing the opposite side was a griffin, also with glittering emerald green eyes glaring menacingly outward. Both of the magical beasts had their wings extended like petals to give the top of the staff the appearance of a strange flower. The old wizard looked over the staff and sighed with relief that his tasks would soon be over and hoped that it would be enough to help his progeny when they needed to call upon the Power to defeat the forces of evil.   
  
Wiping invisible dust off the gleaming rod, he dipped the stick into the cauldron, which proceeded to glow even brighter than what it was before. Soon the ordinary, although beautiful, rod would become so much more, soon to be endowed with magic beyond all save the greatest practitioners of the art. With brows furrowed and thunder and lightning roaring outside wreaking havoc on the nerves on even the bravest of King Arthur's knights, he once again resumed the incantation he himself had developed and would be the final step to create the mightiest vessel of power the world had seen since the ages of the Olde Ones. The red-brown solution bubbled furiously in response to the words spoken by the wizard and seemed to be diffusing into the stick. Slowly, the color crawled up the staff making it a dull mahogany to the very top.   
  
When at last the solution had disappeared from cauldron, the old man collapsed to his knees weakly, breathing hard and with apparent difficulty. "It's finally done, Alto, my faithful friend," he said after a few minutes rest. He turned to face the snow white owl perched on a stand that was staring down at him with eyes that seemed to hold intelligence. "Ever since the Vision 20 years ago where I saw the world would be facing the greatest threat of the dark side and only with the power of a powerful magical artifact could my last descendent hope to survive and discover the true powers hidden within him. He must learn of the blood of family, the blood of me, Merlin, the blood of the Olde Ones, who have long since gone back to other realm. We are the last line left on this world, and it is our burden – our duty – to defend the innocents and bring forth the Light." The old owl hooted and flew down to the man's shoulder.   
  
"Over the last years, I have searched for the components of this staff, and now it is done. I simply have bestow a little of my consciousness into the staff, and all will be ready," Merlin said to his owl. "Just give me a few more minutes to rest." The owl simply hooted once again and affectionately nipped his long time friend's ear, then flying agilely back on to his pedestal. Standing up, Merlin walked to another table and took a bite out of a pear that he conjured before turning to face his last duty. Taking a deep breath, he grasped his old battered wand with his right hand, and with his left hand he grasped the staff. "Goodbye, old friend," he said to bird. Closing his eyes, he began muttering strange words in a forgotten language for what seemed to be hours. Abruptly, in tune with a particularly loud burst of thunder and a brilliant flash lighting the entire castle, he tapped his own head with the staff and collapsed to the floor in a crumpled heap. Gasping, with the last of the strength in his tortured body, he mutter a few more strangled words and made the staff move to the future where it would reach his descendants when the time was right.   
  
The drawbridge outside finally snapped and fell into the moat, as the rains outside finally began to subside, as if their job had been done and now they could repose, and the night was broken by the loud piercing hoots of an anguished owl. The rain continued to fall as the light dimmed in the north-east corner of castle Camelot. Merlin, the greatest wizard the world had seen or would see for many generations had died at midnight. 


	2. Chapter 01

Ch. 1 - Dreams and Demons   
  
Peter Pettigrew, known as Wormtail to most these days, cowered in the corner of the massive throne room quivering in fear (as usual), but this night his jittery behavior could also be attributed to excitement. All of the top level Deatheaters were standing along the walls of a large circular room adorned with skulls and grotesque models of trolls, like art would be placed in the homes of normal people, all practically drooling at the prospect of what this experiment would bring to their order and not at all minding their morbid environment. The focus of their attentions was their precocious leader in the center of the damned chamber. Lord Voldemort was standing with arms raised facing the north wall of the room, with a look of insanity in his eyes that made even the most loyal death eaters wonder at their lord's state of mind.   
  
Lord Voldemort was the greatest of the Dark Wizards to ever grace – or disgrace – the earth. He had undertaken many arcane and esoteric experiments to become the half human, half monster being that he was now. What Voldemort craved, what drove him, was his unquenchable thirst for absolute power over everything and everyone. 14 years ago, he was on the path to achieve his sinister goal but through some cursed twist of fate, a baby reflected the Avada Kedavra spell, and reduced Lord Voldemort, the heir of Slytherin, to a mere shade. Voldemort inwardly scowled at the memory of the 14 years spent as a ghost like entity. 'Soon, Lord Voldemort will not be the laughing stock of the wizarding world. The boy will soon have no chance against me and neither will anyone else. I will become invincible!'   
  
With this thought he focused once more on the task at hand, facing the dire visages that adorned the wall in front of him. It was not these images that the Dark Lord was seeing as his loyal Deatheaters were. He was seeing something far beyond the current realm, and his red eyes became somewhat dulled and glazed. Wand in his left hand, he stood tall and commanding, and one could literally see a purple-black cloud of darkness trailing him like a cloak of despair.   
  
Briefly Pettigrew recalled the details of what happened in the previous year in his head. The cursed Potter and his friends had survived their 6th year under the care of that fool, Dumbledore, and had escaped his master's righteous wrath yet again. The plan would have worked to perfection if that traitor Snape had done his part correctly. Instead three death eaters had been captured and put into the new high security wizard prison created after the dementors returned to their rightful master. If that was not enough, Sirius Black was found innocent by the efforts of his godson and Dumbledore. But the loss was not without gain. Four of the Ministry's aurors were given the Avada Kedavra curse, thanks to the dimwitted actions of the fool ex-Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Because of this, Wormtail thought with a sneer, Lucius Malfoy was able to take control as the Minister of Magic and serve Lord Voldemort's will through the office.   
  
Incantis morime fastide the Dark Lord muttered under his breath and a magnificent purple light shot out from his wand and expanded into a portal. The dark portal swirled and a black mist began to emanate from it, spreading a chill making Pettigrew and the other Deatheaters shiver despite themselves. Voldemort fell to his knees and put his head to the floor playing the part of the unworthy pilgrim paying homage to an icon of some god. But this was no icon he was about to be facing, he knew, nor some false god. 'I had hoped I would never have to use the power of the Abyss to aid me in this life,' he thought with shivers running down his spine at the mere thought of the Abyss. The Abyss was neither a place nor a person in the rigid sense, but an entity that was a splice between the two. None of this mattered much to Voldemort. What did matter was that this entity offered great power, albeit at a extremely high price.   
  
"Mighty Abyss, Master of all that is dark, hear me now!! I beseech you to lend me your power. Hear me Dread Lord, I offer you these worthy living sacrifices!" he shouted with a manic edge in his voice. With that, he raised his wand once again and coldly whispered, "Accio Homannee Levioda!" and pointed his wand at the unsuspecting Wormtail, sending him flying towards the gaping portal. "Master! Nooooooooooo!," cried out the shocked Pettigrew as he flew through the barrier between realities. Voldemort scarcely paused as he pointed the wand at another unsuspecting Deatheater and sent him flying in to the portal as well.   
  
Turning back to face the portal as the remaining Deatheaters were attempting to stay out of thir lord's notice, he now heard an evil pounding voice that seemed to fill his head, and also cause the walls in the chamber to pulsate. "Riddle...What do you wish of me?" "Master," said a servile Voldemort, "I wish to have the power to spread your will of destruction and raise your banner on this soon to be conquered world." "Do you know the costs and do you accept the price which must be paid?" the faceless evil voice queried the paler than usual Voldemort, seemingly more out of procedure than any real concern. "Yes Master, I accept" stuttered Voldemort. "Very well," the voice said. "Let it be known that Tom Marvelo Riddle has accepted and the pact is made."   
  
The entire congregation assembled shivered almost collectively at the pronouncement, as the fate of their Lord was sealed, although they could not fully fathom what that meant as Voldemort could. For two minutes a stifling silence dominated the hall broken only by the ragged breathing of Lord Voldemort. A faint rumbling sound that wasn't there before but seemed to have always been there rang through the hall. The rumbling grew louder and the hall began to shake violently, knocking Deatheaters to the ground. Voldemort didn't notice this at all, his attention focused on the portal which was swirling like a vortex faster and faster. A narrow black beam came from Abyss piercing Lord Voldemort through the heart, causing him to shriek in agony. It felt like a Crucious curse magnified a hundred fold bearing down upon him, and as soon as it had began, the pain stopped and the thing that once a man named Voldemort shed completely the identity of the human Tom Riddle, and became the most powerful being on the face of the Earth.   
  
Voldemort began laughing as the beam faded away, as if they had never been. His cackling evil laugh seemed unnatural even by his usual standards. He couldn't help himself. He sold his soul and the souls of two of his death eaters and now he was less human than the dementors in his thrall. He truly became evil incarnate and finally had the powers at the disposal he deserved. His Deatheaters sat shock still, still floored from the rumbling. He turned his grotesque brown-red face to them. Voldemort's face had transformed from the pale white to a sickening red-brown, with grooves like over deep wrinkles everywhere slashing and crossing his visage at every possible point.   
  
Standing up once again, he walked to his high throne he had conjured with a casual hand wave, and turned to face his minions. The once bright red eyes, now glittering onyx narrowed on the terrified Deatheaters, and a hissing sound that could only be his voice sounded. "Come, my servants. Our time has come and none can stop us!" he laughed, sparks shooting from his outstretched hands.  
  
Lord Voldemort raised one gnarled hand and pointed to the swirling portal and shot a beam of energy at it, causing the vortex to collapse upon itself. The Deatheaters overcame the fear of the man - thing - in front of them that was their master at that magical feat, performed so easily. Feeling the Dark power emanating from him like waves, they rejoiced at the rise and rebirth of their Lord and all but forgot the fates of the ever-loyal Pettigrew and the other nameless Deatheater, visions of the wealth and power they would soon be bequeathed with dancing in their heads.   
  
The almost amiable conversation died down to stillness with amazing suddenness as Voldemort sat on his throne and raised his hand to indicate silence. "MacNair, Lucius," called out the Dark Lord. "Come here"   
  
"Yes m-my lord," stuttered the usually bold and silky smooth Malfoy, quickly going up to the throne demurely. MacNair likewise uttered "As you wish my lord." They both knelt in front of Voldemort and kissed the hem of his black robes.   
  
"Potter is of no consequence to us any longer, be he the heir of Griffindor or not" Voldemort stated, getting to the point immediately.   
  
"Bu-but my lord, the proph-" MacNair nervously began   
  
"Quiet you fool," Voldemort harshly interrupted. "My powers are now far greater than either Salazar Slytherin and Godric Griffindor could ever even imagine. Your task is to spread chaos through the world, muggle and magical alike and then we will overthrow the governments and give rise to the new order. My order. The order of Abyss. Be assured you will all be amply rewarded for your efforts. We will begin by taking over the nations with the least stable magical government and defenses.  
  
"Do you mean Africa my lord," Malfoy offered, drawing upon his knowledge of foreign affairs as the Minister of Magic.   
  
"No you fool! The medicine men of Africa are a powerful group that will slow us down. No, we will begin in South America. Draw up some plans of attack by tomorrow.   
  
"Yes my lord," simpered Lucius. "It is how you wish, my lord," MacNair likewise said in a diminutive voice as they both retreated to their positions in the circle.   
  
Lord Voldemort grasped his hands together. "You are dismissed, Deatheaters," he said at last. As they disapparated, he chuckled to himself, eager to begin testing the limits of his new found powers. If the old legends were even half true, the entire world would be kneeling at his feet within the year.   
  
*****  
  
*****  
  
Far away from the fortress where all the dark events were transpiring, a boy two days away from 17 staying in a room at number 4 Privet Drive woke up with a start in the dead of the night, sweating profusely. He looked outside at the full moon, which seemed to possess a red tint as its eerie light shined in through his small window. The boy blinked and placed his round black glasses on the bridge of his nose and the moon reverted to its normal pale white color. He clutched his head once again becoming aware of the pain that had woken him up in the first place resolving to remain silent in order to avoid a beating at the hand of his uncle.   
  
Shivering at the chill, despite the fact it was the middle of summer, he got out his bed knowing that he would get no more sleep that night. Recalling the promise he made to his godfather three, almost four years back, he took out a roll of parchment and his quill from underneath his bed and jotted down the details of his dream on the small table he used for all purposes, though mainly a desk. Normally he would not have liked to frighten Sirius like this, but he had never felt the pain so acutely before, except perhaps the time Voldemort had touched his face in the private Riddle family graveyard. It was like waking up to a crucious curse. It was quite remarkable that he managed to wake up without making a sound, even with all the practice he had over the past years trying to save his roommates and foster family sleep and worry.   
  
Briefly removing his glasses and rubbing his tired green eyes, the boy turned and looked outside for his owl, Hedwig. He was still living in the small room in his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's home because Professor Dumbledore thought that the wards there were stronger than any protection that could be offered in the wizarding world, including Hogwarts. On the plus side, he had special permission to use magic during the summer, as it wouldn't be prudent to leave him defenseless. With Voldemort still remaining free, there was no room for lax safety at all, especially where Harry was concerned.   
  
Harry sighed briefly at his lack of a normal life, but quickly shook himself back into reality. He didn't want to go down that dismal road of thought again. It only brought him more grief. He accepted Dumbledore's decision to keep him at the Dursleys eventually, though he remained in close contact with Sirius. Ron and Hermione, his two best friends had 'gotten together' in their fifth year, and Harry didn't want to be the third wheel, though they insisted he was always welcome.   
  
Turning his attention back to the present, Harry realized, 'She's probably hunting for food.' Held prisoner here in the muggle world, Harry Potter didn't really have any means to get the recommended owl food from the Apothecary, so he let his snow white owl out to hunt for small rodents. Not seeing the bird outside, Harry resolved to wait until tomorrow to send the message. Sitting back down on his bed with a sigh brought about by tiredness, Harry relaxed on his back for an instant. 'I might as well get on with my Potions reading,' Harry thought, as he ascertained that sleep was not going to come again, 'Merlin knows Snape is out to get points out of me as it is.'   
  
With that thought in mind, Harry took out a book hidden beneath a loose floor board and began studying it. Twenty minutes later, Hedwig swooped in through the window, content with a fulfilling meal, and gazed upon the sleeping boy. The owl hooted softly and hoped that her young master was alright, concern mirrored in her amber eyes.   
  
Harry was pulled into yet another dream, but this one was stranger than any he had experienced before, though in a good way. He was in small circular stone room with warm torches lit up in four perpendicular places. He didn't feel any fear here, but rather a sense of peace and fulfillment. The place gave Harry almost the same feeling he got from school, Hogwarts, except there was more energy vibrating in the air that was palpable to his finely tuned magical senses. He never had this sensation of being overwhelmed by magical power before. As Harry looked around the room, he became aware of an old man sitting on a bed in front of him that he could have sworn wasn't there earlier.   
  
The old man reminded him of Dumbledore, though he was clearly not his headmaster. He was shorter and more stooped, and definitely older, but he had a twinkle in his eyes not unlike the headmaster of Hogwarts. He had a flowing white beard of pure white, though under his hat some black hair could still be seen poking through among the white snowy tresses. He wore a plain set of sky blue robes and the matching hat was placed precariously atop his head. He smiled in a gentle grandfatherly like way that made Harry feel inexplicably... happy.   
  
The old man recovered first and shook himself back to the present, and his face became serious. "Harry," Merlin started, "I am Merlin and I am visiting you from the past to warn you. The world is soon to come to great danger. The dream you had of the Demon Lord is a rendition of the truth of what transpired this night although some of the darkness was veiled by me for your own protection." At this, Harry had to shiver because if what he felt was only a part of the darkness, he was very afraid of what the full thrust of it would feel like. "This one you call... Voldemort", Merlin said as if he had something extremely bitter or sour in his mouth, "he has unlocked the forbidden powers of Abyss. By the pacts of the Olde ones with mortals, it was decreed that the portal should never be opened and the knowledge of doing so be forgotten. You must learn as much as you can this year at the wizarding school whilst I tutor you. Seek the Olde Ones, therein you will find the secrets hidden in your blood. The magic therein must be awoken from its dormant state, as you are no longer in the times of relative peace and a need for the Olde Ones – or perhaps one even greater than they – has arisen. You, my true heir, must seek my Staff. It will help to unlock the powers of light and the old magic that lie within you. It is in the place that was once Camelot castle, now your school Hogwarts." The old man coughed violently. Merlin began to get fuzzy, along with the entire room. "Harry... My time grows short. Be my heir. I cannot help much more until you find the staff. Keep your friends close to you, but do not reveal your heritage yet to anyone. Use your powers of the Dreamseeing wisely" He picked up his wand and pointed it at Harry and muttered some words. "Remember..." The old man said at last as he faded to nothingness, and Harry heard the shrill shouting of his aunt Petunia calling him downstairs to do chores.   
  
'Great' Harry thought to himself as he jolted out of bed. He couldn't help but worry. He had already faced many dangers and took many risks these past two years, many of which would leave even the most stalwart afraid to leave the confines of their safe beds. 'I wonder what it would be like to be normal and have normal friends' he wondered again as he made his way downstairs, to waiting day below. 'It would probably be boring,' he decided as he went down to serve breakfast as he pondered what normal was, exactly. 


	3. Chapter 02

Ch. 2 –   
  
  
  
Ronald Weasley got up at the sound of his mom's voice calling up at him from the kitchen on the bottom floor. He sighed and slowly dragged himself out of bed, and opened the window. 'Definitely going to be a miserable day,' he thought to himself. The sun was shining outside and the birds were chirping. Ron stretched and proceeded to close the shade. He was NOT in a very happy mood. Even Fred and George, who were visiting for the holidays recognized his glum mood and snappish behavior, and were forced to leave him alone.   
  
He opened a box lying on his bed stand and looked at the sapphire necklace inside it. He had worked hard all summer at the Ministry with Percy (ugh!) and his dad to earn enough money for it. Now he was going to have to take it back. 'On the plus side,' he thought sardonically, 'at least now I'll be able to buy a new Nimbus 3003.' The reason for his depression was that because of his work in the summer, he had rarely spoken or written to Hermione, his ex-girlfriend. She had sent an owl two days back to break up with him. She said that because of all the time spent apart in the summer break and the arguments that they had been getting in when they were 'together', perhaps it was best they went back to simply being best friends.   
  
Ron snorted with disgust but his attitude once again became sad. Privately, Ron suspected that it had more to do with the return of Victor Krum, internationally held as the greatest seeker now, and his much improved English, than with any problems between them. Victor had even made the cover of Teen Witch Monthly five consecutive times now as the most eligible wizard, according to his sister Ginny. He sighed again and closed the box, and headed downstairs. Even though he was feeling bad, he didn't feel complete despair or anger although he acted as if he did.   
  
"Morning Mum," he called out to his mother, and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. Ron had certainly grown the past two years and stood easily at two inches over six feet tall, but he wasn't really shy about it because Harry was about the same height. It was almost a competition between them, seeing who was taller of the two best friends, one that Ron was coming up ahead in. Thinking of Harry reminded him of something else on his mind.   
  
"Today is Harry's birthday right?" he asked his mother as she laid out a breakfast of pancakes in front of him.   
  
"Yes dear, it is," she said. "Now eat up, I need you to have energy. This morning you have to degnome the garden and then feed the owls." From outside they heard a mighty grunt followed by an easily identifiable "Good show, old bean" coming from outside. "Your brothers have already started," Mrs. Weasely continued, as she sat on a seat opposite to Ron to begin her own breakfast.   
  
"What about Ginny? Doesn't she have to help as well?" Ron asked in between bites. Ginny was the youngest of the Weasley children, and the only girl besides. She once had a crush on Harry, but things had long since changed and she had grown close to Neville Longbottom who returned her affection.   
  
"Sorry," said Mrs Weasley after a sip of her coffee, one of Arthur's delicious discoveries from the muggle world. "She left early this morning by Floo to Kate's house. You still have Fred and George to help you though."   
  
"Oh," Ron said intelligently. "Well I was thinking that maybe we could go pick up Harry this afternoon. He must be having an awful time with those gits he calls relatives.   
  
"Ron! Watch your language," Mrs Weasely chided him, though she did not comment on the description of Harry's relatives. After the experience with them at the station last year, she was amazed by how inconsiderate and rude the guardians of one of the nicest boys she had met could actually be. "Actually, I did get an owl from Professor Dumbledore this morning saying that we could pick up Harry any time from now till school starts if we wanted. We can go get him,   
  
"Yay!" shouted Ron, beaming happily, his eyes lit up with excitement.   
  
"but AFTER you degnome the garden. I've already sent him a note with his special birthday brownies telling him we're coming this afternoon." With that, she pointed her wand to Ron's empty dishes and moved them to the sink whereupon the magic dishwashing gloves began to clean the syrup laden dishes.   
  
"Oh, alright," Ron said irritably, and drained the remainder of his pumpkin juice. Standing up and stretching out, Ron went outside to go degnome with his brothers.   
  
Walking outside, he quickly covered his eyes at the brightness of the sun. Over the past two days, it had been getting extremely hot and dry, to the point of being unusual even though it was summer. Blinking a few times, he removed his hand in front of his eyes and walked up to his brothers where they were wrestling with an especially stubborn gnome. The twins held one leg of the gnome each and were trying to yank him out of the hole, but he was grabbing on to some roots in the earth with unnatural energy, all the while muttering obscenities. Ron walked up to hear the gnome call out, "Leggo of me, ya dirty sons of a cow. Too scared to face me one on onnnneeeeeee...!!" the gnome exclaimed, cut off in mid-insult getting launched out of the yard by the twins, whose faces turned a hue to match the Weasely trademark red hair.   
  
"'Ello Ronnikins," Fred called out to his younger sibling. "We've just about finished out here-," George continued, "but it's still nice of you to finally come out," completed Fred. With that the twins gave each other a glance and then leapt onto their unsuspecting younger brother to avenge the fact they did all the work.   
  
"Gerrof!" Ron called out from underneath, but the mock-pummeling continued. Five minutes later, all red faced and happy, the brothers lay back. "Today might not be such a bad day after all," Ron thought to himself, and then lay back and closed his eyes.   
  
*****   
  
*****   
  
Harry Potter woke up feeling refreshed for once, and was excited to face the day the first time all summer. Today was his 17th birthday, and hopefully the last birthday he would be spending with the Dursleys. After the upcoming year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he could legally move wherever he wanted to, which would probably be with his godfather Sirius Black, who while innocent, was too busy with the work of the Phoenix to be able to fully take care of Harry and offer the same protection that the Dursleys could boast.   
  
Speaking of the wizarding world, Harry noticed a pecking sound on his closed window. He quickly sprang out of bed and opened the window. Five owls, including his own snowy white Hedwig, swooped in and dropped packages on his bed.   
  
Harry felt a kind of euphoria at the knowledge that this would be his last birthday with the Dursleys for another reason also. After this upcoming year at Hogwarts, his prestigious Wizarding school, he would finally have a license to practice magic and would, in theory, go off to find a job in the wizarding world although he still had a sizable fortune left in Gringotts. Even though he there was no need for him to work, Harry felt a kind of obligation to the world that had rescued him from a miserable muggle life and offered him more than he could ever hope to repay. In short, he felt that he had a debt to the magical society and wanted to work it off.  
  
Snapping out of his reverie, he looked at the presents and letters lying in front of him. All of the owls had flown off except his own Hedwig, who settled into her cage to rest and drink water. Picking up a present in green wrapping paper, he carefully opened it and removed a set of quiddich balls that had an orange color scheme. There was also a little picture of cannon on each of the balls with a cannonball roaming all over the ball. Inside the same package, there was another rectangular box in white wrapping and a small platter of brownies and other treats.   
  
Harry pulled out the attached letter and began to read the inscribed message in Ron's messy handwriting:  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
How have you been with the Dursleys? If you need any more ton-tongue toffees to keep the muggles in line, just send Hedwig. Life in the Burrow has become hectic because Fred and George are visiting us. Its not a bad thing though. I was a little surprised at how fast they found a new home to live in. Percy stayed here for almost a year before he got his apartment. Anyway, I got you a set of special Chudley Cannon brand quiddich balls. Don't worry about losing them... just use the whistle that came with them and they will come back to you.  
  
Hermione sent me an owl recently. She decided it was too awkward to be boyfriend / girlfriend with your best friend and broke up with me. I always thought that it was meant to be. Maybe I can talk to her and make her to be my girlfriend again later. What do you think? We can talk about that when (if?) you come here this summer.   
  
Back to happier matters, the twins sent the white package. I'm not sure what it is, but I suspect it has something to do with 'Weasleys Wizard Wheezes'. They have alluded to it, but they have kept most of the information a secret from all of us. The brownies are from Mum of course. Try to hang on to your sanity; I think that you may be able to visit us soon, as soon as Dumbledore agrees anyway. Until then,  
  
Your best friend,  
  
Ron Weasley   
  
Harry was a little shocked that his two best friends broke up. They had been a couple since the summer after their fourth year at Hogwarts. 'Oh well,' he thought to himself, 'If I know those two, they will be back together before a month at Hogwarts has passed.   
  
Harry then proceeded to open the gift from the twins. Out of the white wrapping paper came a colorfully decorated box with three large 'W's placed prominently on the top front of it. Excitedly, he opened it up and found an assortment of joke items perfect to use on a certain despised Slytherin. Inside he found old favorites such as ton tongue toffees as well as new ones, such as five Weasley brand dung bombs that not only had the smell factor, but now turned anyone caught in its blast radius a sickly shade of green-brown. Harry grinned at these and the other useful devices he found and put it aside, eager to see his other presents.   
  
The next present was from Hagrid, who had never failed to get him something since he rescued Harry from the muggles on his eleventh birthday. It turned out to be a wizard kaleidoscope that was very interesting to look through. Whenever you turned the dial not only different shapes and colors appeared, but also different smells and classical music. He particularly enjoyed Canon, composed by a muggle named Pachabel. Harry realized this would prove to be an invaluable aid in helping him sleep or recover from his all too common headaches. He silently promised to himself to thank Hagrid when they visited in the following school year.   
  
Harry then opened a book shaped present that must obviously be from Hermione. An attached letter in her perfect cursive fell on to his bed and he picked it up to read:  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
How have you been? I hope you are keeping up with your course work. Just because you are a prefect doesn't excuse you from having to work less hard! I have just come home from a trip to Brazil where we explored the Amazon rain forest. I actually got to meet some of the native shaman that worked rudimentary forms of magic! It was really exciting and we all had a lot of fun.  
  
In any case, I stupidly broke up with Ron last week because he hadn't written to me the whole summer. I got a letter from Ginny not two days later telling me that he had been working hard all summer at the Ministry to buy me some kind of gift. I hope he'll forgive me for being such a git. In any case, I shouldn't be bothering you with my troubles on your birthday. Think of it, after this year we'll be full wizards and witches! Think of all the opportunities available to us!  
  
Remember Harry, if you ever need to talk to anyone about anything, I'll be here for you, and so will Ron. If your scar is hurting, please tell us about it and we can try to help you. After all, three minds are always better than one. I hope you enjoy your present; it's a book if you hadn't guessed. I'll see you at Diagon Alley hopefully near the end of the summer. Give me an owl if you go to Ron's house so we can set a date.  
  
With Love,  
  
Hermione   
  
Smiling to himself while reading the letter, Harry was gratified to know that his friends would be able to resolve their differences easily. Anyone could see how happy they were together and it would be such a shame if they didn't try a little. Opening up the package, he unwrapped to find a book entitled Charms and Hexes to tease your friends and get your enemies. Harry was amused by the picture on the cover of the book that had a unhappy looking fellow being constantly cursed by a variety of hexes and charms and then being undone, the cycle repeating over and over. He looked through the book and found some charms, such as nasolifantus that made the victim grow an elephant's trunk over their noses.   
  
Seeing an imperious looking package with the Hogwarts seal on it, Harry opened it next. He found the customary list from Professor McGonnell telling him to buy ingredients and books -- Advanced Charms, Grade 7 Spells and Enchantments (apparently Hogwarts was switching from the customary book, or perhaps this was normal for 7th years...), followed by Light Arts for Defense, then The Complete guide to a Magical Garden, and Potions Grade 7, along with some others -- but there was another attached letter similar to the one he got in his fifth year that made him a prefect that caught Harry's attention. Harry gulped and read on like the brave Griffindor that he was. The letter read:   
  
Dear Mr. Potter,  
  
You have accomplished the highest level of success available to a male student in Hogwarts because of your commitment to your studies, achievements on the quiddich field, and ... extra curricular activities. For your incredible work in these past six years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it is with pleasure I award you the position of Head Boy.  
  
Your duties will be to supervise the Prefects in their duty and serve in the capacity of a teacher where one is not present. Further duties will be elaborated on when you come to school September first. You are expected to wear your badge on the train and other ceremonies at school this year. Congratulations,   
  
Sincerely,  
  
Professor Minerva McGonnell  
  
Acting Headmaster   
  
Harry didn't really know what to say about this. He knew it was an honor and on one hand he felt very happy at getting this achievement that he knew his father had also gotten many years before him. On the other hand, he felt sort of unhappy at getting this award because it would only serve to draw even more attention to him. "Anyway", he finally decided to himself, "I just got to deal with it," and put it out of his mind. ..... Next, Harry opened a small parcel in the shape of a box. Inside he found a letter from Sirius that read:  
  
Harry,  
  
Are you keeping well? That last dream is sounding worse than ever, and if what you saw is true, you are out of danger but I'm afraid for the world now. In any case, don't worry too much as the Order of Phoenix is stronger than ever and new members are joining in the fight against Voldemort as they are getting over their fear and learning to stand up for themselves.  
  
I will be a real godfather to you when this war is over and we can do interesting things me and James did as kids that I'm sure you would enjoy. If you were wondering, your gift is the new brand of super miniaturizing trunks that are "the latest style of today's enterprising business wizard", as the catalog put it. All you have to do is say the word inlargus and tap it with your wand to make it grow to its full size. It has seven magical compartments that work similar to the way Barty Crouch Junior's trunk worked. When you want to shrink it again, say the word scrincan and tap it with your wand. I hope you find it useful. If you have any more dreams, remember to let me know. Take care,  
  
Love,  
  
Sirius   
  
PS. If you misplace it, call tornare and wave your wand in a circle motion. After you have bonded to this trunk, it will return to you from where ever it is by teleporting to you when you do this.   
  
The name Barty Crouch induced a shudder in Harry as he read his godfather's letter. Although Harry got over the events of the Triwizard tournament, he still remained sad over the unnecessary death of Cedric Diggory. So many deaths at occurred over the past few years since Voldemorts rise to power again, and the wizarding world was becoming almost as jaded as muggles to death and murder, Harry still felt the twinge in his heart as he thought about that year. Determined not to let past memories ruin his birthday and the gift that Sirius had obviously spent a lot of money on, he opened the package and found a perfect replica of a mohaghany trunk that fit in the palm of his hand. He tried enlarging it and shrinking it a few times and was amazed at the size of each compartment. He could fit his old trunk easily into each one and still have room for his Firebolt.   
  
Harry was pulled out of playing with his new trunk with the sound of buzzing, almost like a Hummingbird. He looked up to find Pig flying circles in his room, as if to slow itself down from its top speed flight. Harry held out his arm and Pig easily glided down to perch itself on his forearm. Harry had to laugh at the excitable creature and detached the letter on its leg. It was a short note from Mrs. Weasely reading:  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I hope your summer has been well. We have been looking forward to your visit all summer long and Dumbledore has finally agreed to allow you to come for these last few weeks. Arthur and Ron will come to your house around 5 o' clock tonight via portkey to pick you up. I hope to see you soon,  
  
Love,  
  
Molly Weasely   
  
Harry absolutely exploded with happiness now. His birthday was now complete, as he got the final gift. He hadn't dared to hope to be able to go for a few more weeks at the very least, but he wasn't complaining about the good fortune. By now the rest of the household was stirring and it was time to get out of his room and fix breakfast for his "family", if you can call it that, so he shelved thoughts of quiddich in the summer sun and exploring the area surrounding the Weasely property in favor of the question sunny side up or scrambled? 


	4. Chapter 03

Ch. 3  
  
Harry woke up with a start, not hearing the sounds of the early morning for the pain bursting inside his head, permeating mainly from his famous scar though it seemed to engulf his whole skull. It was remarkable that he managed to keep quiet through the episode as grown men (such as a certain muggle we will call V.D. ...) would have screamed for their mothers at a fraction of it. The reason for this particular malady was that Voldemort had another torture and murder spree somewhere in Brazil and Harry had dreamt it more vividly than ever before. Harry deduced it was Brazil because he was able to understand that the screaming wizards and muggles were speaking in Portuguese... that, and there seemed to be a large river near the township complete with anacondas all coming to Voldemort's side. The sights were indescribably horrid and disgusting and Harry did his best to forget as much of the nightmare as he could. The sounds of muggle children screaming as their bones melted at the behest of a single word and blast from the new Voldemort's gaunt hand was perhaps the worst single memory Harry had ever experienced.   
  
Harry wrote down the notes of the memory on a bit of parchment he had lying next to his bed for just such an occassion, and rolled it up to send with Hedwig to Dumbledore at a more sane time of the day, as it was still before 6 am.  
  
From the summer after his 5th year, he had been keeping some parchment, ink, and a quill handy in order for him to jot down notes from his dreams on Dumbledore and Sirius' suggestion. Back then, Voldemort wasn't as cunning and subtle... rather, he was somewhat rabid in his pursuit of his fiendish goals, which in turn caused Harry to have several dreams sometimes in one night. After the 6th year and until the incident with abyss, the Dark Lord had been surprisingly (and somewhat frighteningly) quiet, and Harry hadn't had too many Voldemort induced nightmares. Of course, this may have been an act of Merlin, whom Harry suspected was acting as a guardian to block out all but the most terrible of nightmares.   
  
Harry was relieved for the small blessing that Ron wasn't lying in his neighboring bed so early in the morning and wasn't there to see the tears that were starting to stream down his cheeks and the blood from his lips, where he had bit down to keep his cries in check. Feeling his glasses on the dresser table, he put them and stumbled out of bed, surprisingly groggy even after the experience. Part of the reason was that he was exhausted from the welcoming he received the night before, which involved exchanging many stories and mugs of butterbeer (homemade, of course) late into the night.  
  
The morning was not getting off to a good start for Harry as he climbed out of his bed at the Weasley's place. The trip from his former -- 'that's a wonderful term', Harry thought to himself while mouthing the word 'former' -- home was rather uneventful. A series of grunts were emitted from Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and Petunia had not bothered to be at home.   
  
Harry had walked into Mr. Weasley's shiny black ministry car with his shrunken mohagany trunk in one pocket of his oversized windbreaker, and his wand in his other, not trusting it to be too far away from his hand. Not even looking behind him once, Harry had climbed into the passenger seat of the car and drove off, possibly unnoticed by all except for a certain feline-o-phile who was peering out of her window. Harry mentally forgave the Dursley's for their vile deeds to him in the past. He promised to himself that he wouldn't hold anything against them for past actions, as they were still family and had given him a home for many years. Harry mused over how he was greeted affectionately by the always warm and kind Molly Weasely two weeks ago and pretty much the whole family. It felt good to be back to what he considered in his heart to be a warm home with the closest thing to a real family he had ever had.  
  
Snapping out of his reverie, Harry trudged downstairs glumly trying to think happy thoughts, like being Seeker, and even considered using an unauthorized charm to alleviate his depression. He sighed as he remembered the case where Bolga the Bountiful had used that charm on herself and had unfortunately gotten addicted to its effects. The end result was quite disturbing and tragic, involving a lot of pet bunnies being crushed from being petted too often and too vigorously and dazed cats stumbling drunkenly out of her cabin after being dressed up in disgustingly cute outfits, out in the wilderness. No one knew quite what was going on over there but Bolga never came out, so say her old friends, and had decorated all of her belongings with yellow "sunshine" ribbons or pink "happy-time" ribbons, or even a mixture of the two. Needless to say, she lost her friends somewhat rapidly soon after and, well, that's a story for another time. Harry shook his head and yawned, wondering why and how he had remembered that obscure story Professor Flitwick had told the class when they were learning the charm last year, which was meant only for extreme feelings of depression at near suicide levels.   
  
Harry made sure he was fully composed and calm as he walked down the final steps of the stairs approaching the dining table where half of the Weasley household were already dressed and eating breakfast.   
  
'Good morning Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George', Harry said in a just-woke-up-and-still-tired sort of voice. 'Odd to see you up so early Ron', he said taking an empty seat at the table.   
  
For the past few years he had spent in the house, he had been used to waking up late (around 9 a.m. or so) and had always found Ron gone. But now, at nearly 6 in the morning this summer, it was really a surprise to see how early his best friend had taken to getting up, which was so atypical for him. Even at school it was a daunting trial to wake the redhead up before 8 am.   
  
Fred answered the implied question when Ron just ignored the statement, saying "Our little Ronnikins has been up at the crack of dawn every morning this summer".  
  
George, rising up to take his and Fred's dishes into the sink, continued the line of thought saying, "and dear Mum won't let us be, insisting that we should also should get up bright and early to make the most of our day".   
  
Fred jumped back in, concluding the joint statement with an emphatic 'she obviously doesn't appreciate young inventor-slash-entrepreneurs such as ourselves need our rest in order work at optimal efficiency', in mock seriousness.  
  
Mrs. Weasely just 'humphed' and didn't even turn around at the weak jibe. Even Harry had to snort at this performance, as it seemed below par for the two tricksters. In truth, Harry had privately been expecting some funny drama and theatrics out of the two in the morning, as he had come to expect of them, but it was early in the morning so that would explain it. In his heart, Harry knew the truth of the matter was that the dark times upon them had taken its toll on even the most carefree of hearts, and this was living proof.  
  
"Why did you wake up so-," Ron started, but he was abruptly cut off by Mrs. Weasley who had noticed Harry's expression when he was walking down the stairs and his bloodshot eyes, and didn't want to aggravate the situation any more than it already was.  
  
"We're going to Diagon Alley today Harry," Mrs. Weasely said crisply, before Harry could ask about Ron's summer work and all that, which was mentioned in Hermione's letter but had completely skipped his mind.  
  
It was the last day before school starts, and they had put off shopping till the last possible moment. The past weeks were spent in traditional, though a bit strained, "fun-in-the-sun" activities. Along with the twins, two of the dream team had pretty much lazed around the house, caused mischief with the lawn gnomes and some grumpy muggle neighbors, and played much quiddich. Not so much as an iota of real work was done, much to the chagrin of Mrs. Weasley who had expected Harry to be a lot more work oriented as he was Head Boy.  
  
"What time did Percy and Mr. Weasley come home?" Harry asked. The two resident Ministry officials were working very diligently and ferociously on the defense of the magical (and muggle, although inconspicuously) nation by setting up wards. Stirrings of trouble abroad also had the Ministry and community nervous, and Britain was working on plans to send Aurors abroad to aid the natives. Minster Malfoy of course opposed this plan and created many barriers in the way of Arthur and others for the policy. As a consequence, the two Ministry Weasleys were bogged down with insane amounts of paper work and bureaucracy to get anything accomplished.  
  
"I think Dad got back around 2 or 3 in the morning," Fred answered grimly. "Percy came at 11, and told us that Dad had to do some more work for the International Auror Aid Plan (IAAP)."  
  
"That man..." Mrs. Weasley began softly, trailing off with a sigh. She supported Arthur, and his work, but that didn't mean she had to support his insane hours!  
  
"Personally, I think it's a good thing Percy spends so much time at work," George said.   
  
"Yeah, with him gone all day, at least we don't have to listen to his constant complaining about the bureaucracy that prevents the "wise" Minister Malfoy from passing the IAAP plan his department (Department of International Cooperatrion) was pushing.  
  
"Boys! Thats enough out of you!"   
  
"Mother, you know that he is blinded by his love for the Ministry and his work!" Fred prodded persistently.  
  
George continued his twin, "He is even to turn a blind eye on everything that the Order of Phoenix accomplished citing that it was a 'minor mistake' on the part of the Ministry!"  
  
"If our great and glorious Deatheater Minister of Magic announced that there was no threat of a rising Voldemort, Percy would believe it in a heartbeat!" Fred passionately concluded.  
  
"You have no idea about how hard Percy has been working Fred and George Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley almost screamed, turning around and glaring at her two antagonizing sons. "He comes home and cries for the sake of the magical world every night! Did you know he leaves for work before I even wake up?! He doesn't eat well, doesn't sleep well and devotes his life for the sake of the people and fear of the Dark Lord. Haven't you noticed the bags under his eyes? The only reason he comes home at all is because Ginny made him promise and on top of that, Arthur forces him to! You do not say things about people you cannot hope to understand!" quite red in the face at this point.  
  
The twins sat back in stunned silence, digesting the new information about Percy. They knew Percy was a little more tired looking and gaunt than usual, but had paid it little heed. Now they hung their heads in shame and whispered apologies to their mum.  
  
Ron exhaled a long breath that he didn't know he had been holding as Mrs Weasley turned away from the twins. And Harry looked up from his plate, feeling guilty for turning the conversation to this topic.   
  
Mrs. Weasley sighed, and said, "Boys, I know you didn't mean it and I'm sorry I snapped at you. Now go up there and change! Today is going to be a busy day. So many things to do, so many things to buy..."  
  
Fred and George nodded their heads as one and jogged up the stairs intent on avoiding their mother's gaze because of their own guilt over their attack on Percy. However, Harry had to cover his smile when he heard one of the two mutter, "Scary..shes more ferocious than a hundred lawn gnomes".   
  
Harry quickly gulped down his pumpkin juice, thanking Mrs. Weasley for another delicious meal (she even made breakfast spectacular) and went upstairs to put on some decent clothes. There seemed to be a certain electricity in the air as he bounded up the stairs that was perceptable to Harry and made him suddenly feel alert. They were gonna meet Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron and everything, but there was something else tugging at Harry's instinct. Something related to the legacy of Merlin was going to go down he suspected... Or maybe he shouldn't have had that fourth sausage link Mrs. Weasley forced onto his plate...  
  
All alone at the table now, Ron muttered "How about those Cannons...", relieving the tension from the drama that had just passed for himself and his mum, who laughed at the words, and finished his juice and followed everyone up the stairs to finish getting ready for the trip ahead.   
  
*****   
  
*****   
  
Diagon Alley was filled with hustle and bustle, as was typical these days. Just last year Deatheaters had attacked the center of wizard commerce but the economy rebounded nicely since the Dark Lord and his minions were unable to penetrate Gringotts, which was paramount in ensuring the financial stability in Britain's magical community. The goblins, along with the dragons and other esoteric creatures kept to defend the hidden wealth, launched a fabulous and still memorable counter-offensive that drove the Deatheaters out of Diagon and even Knockturn alley, where some local shopkeepers actually came out to fight against the Dark Lord, apparently agitated about the "desecration of the dark side". There was much damage to the shops, but the good (or those acting good as in the case of Lucius Malfoy and other socially prominent Deatheaters), all contributed with money and effort to restore the alley back to its former glory, with the exception of it being open only on specific "market days", instead of all the time.   
  
It was this environment of underlying tension, but determined, quiet strength present in the faces and mannerisms of the people that greeted Harry, Ron, Fred and George, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley. Fred and George looked around somewhat eagerly for a location for their shop. Because of the war with Voldemort, the two "mad geniuses", as Ron had once dubbed them, were working on inventions that would lead to catching the Dark Lords minions. Officially, they were third class Aurors, but they mostly contributed by finding clever and original ways to manipulate objects to accomplish feats that would help capture Deatheaters. A few years ago they had come up with crazy but helpful inventions like the Deatheater-special Dungbomb, which was used on large masses of hooded and covered Deatheaters. The special quality of the bomb was that a red dye would permeate through any material and go straight to the skin of any with the dark mark. This was done with the assistance of Professor Snapes dark mark, much to the latter's reluctance. The red dye went all over the skin in all parts of the body and magically glowed, so it was hard to mask with make up or ordinary charms. Another benefit was that it lasted for at least one or two months before it got weak and dispersed. This was extremely helpful in detecting undercover Deatheater spies in ordinary wizard society, and had earned the twins an Order of Merlin, third class award each, although it wasn't very well known to the public so as not target the family by Deatheaters. However, they could now afford to take a break from the dangerous ministry work because Deatheater activity in Great Britain had surprisingly declined the past summer, which was almost worse than having them attack every week in some semblance of a pattern to some.  
  
Harry and the Weasleys headed off to Gringotts, the International renowned Wizarding Bank, first off to collect money to cover the school supplies, and several extra treats as well.  
  
Security at the great bank was tight, more than any of them had seen before. Goblin Special Forces complete with armor designed to repulse basic level hexes and curses and large gruesome looking cutlasses stood at the foot of the stairs looking menacing, glaring at pedestrians who dared to look twice at them. As the small party reached the bank, a middle aged and scarred Goblin screened them for traces of dark magic with a special bone-shaped detector.  
  
Finishing ten minutes later, he finally, and grudgingly, grunted "You may pass", and the other guard Goblins stepped aside to let them enter.  
  
"Whoa...", Ginny gasped, echoed soon after by her brothers. If security outside was tight, inside it was simply awesome in its magnitude. There were two ogres with four goblin "supervisors" standing on one side, and on the other there was a semi-tamed (as none can really be tame) dragon. The party shuffled through slowly, daunted by the fearsome creatures around them. Harry and the Weasleys split up with Harry going to find a banker to take him to his vault and the Weasleys going to theirs. Fred and George had a seperate account, and they were unsuccessfully trying to convince Mrs. Weasley to use their money. Unfortunately being a Weasley entailed being stubborn, even when dealing with her own children so she refused emphatically.  
  
"Can I help you?" an old Goblin asked Harry in a guttural voice.   
  
"Take me to the Potters vault", Harry responded, handing the old Goblin his key. As he was by himself this time, Harry decided he would try to investigate his large vault and see if there were any possessions or heirlooms his parents, or other ancestors, left for him. Secretly, he was hoping to find the staff of Merlin, but he dared not to get his hopes up.  
  
Harry's banker stepped out from behind the counter and said, "Follow me", as he led Harry to the trademark Gringotts carts, though with another security wizard in tow.  
  
Harry followed the heavily wrinkled humanoid down to the cart area and stepped into the cart. Harry braced himself as the cart jettisoned from the docking place where the carts were kept seemingly haphazardly.   
  
"Whooooooaa", Harry gasped from the exhilaration coming from the ride down into the depths of a random seeming tunnel. Harry was thrilled at the ride this time, having overcome his initial trepidations from the first few times he had taken the carts down to the vaults, and now was eagerly looking around for any of the dragons that were supposed to be guarding the wizard gold hidden in the various vaults that he passed by.  
  
"Here's your vault, Mister Potter", the old goat of a Goblin rasped to Harry. Harry opened the circular door with his key, and stepped inside the vault, which automatically was lit up by magic. He looked in appreciation at amount of wealth lying before him not only in the form of sacks upon sacks of galleons, sickles, and knuts, but also in the form of jewel encrusted goblets and a beautiful golden harp that he was sure was magical. Maybe that was because the little angel figurine on the top of it was smiling at Harry and winking.   
  
The vault was about the size of the Dursley's living room, which is to say that it wasn't especially super sized; it was still grand and impressive for a room dedicated to one family's wealth. Harry walked on top of heaps of galleons, inspecting various trinkets along the way that were on shelves or scattered among the coins, such as a little golden dragon that flew in small languid circles and a book in dark midnight blue binding entitled simple charms. As much as he valued Ron and Hermione, he would never give anyone any of his heirlooms, though feeling guilty at this thought, he took out an extra twenty galleons for presents for their respective birthday presents.  
  
Harry continued down the line of items on a shelf admiring many of the little treasures but afraid to touch any of them. Harry was afraid of damaging any of the objects (or get damaged himself by them) by physically handling them so he simply looked at them, etching them in his memory so he would have something pleasant to think about after waking up from his nightmares, or to produce a Patronus. A golden chain was at end of the line of items on the northern wall of the room, with beautiful sparkling blue gem the size of a dime on its end. Harry found himself attracted to the amulet for some inexplicable reason, and unconsciously stretched out his hand to reach it. As his hand approached the chain, the jewel on the end started to glow, becoming radiant and sending blue sparks to his hand while his hand emitted white sparks that seemed to fit perfectly with the blue of the jewel. Continuing entranced, and perhaps still unaware of his own actions, Harry took hold of the chain and placed it around his neck.  
  
Harry suddenly felt a tingling down this spine that bordered on both ecstasy and pain, similar to what Dudley described feeling when he stuck his fork into the electric socket. Harry began to see black spots in his vision, but he focused on the feeling and eventually regained his concentration. As he was about to take off the chain having finally achieved mental awareness, the sensation stopped and Harry was at peace again, only a heaviness in breathing and sweaty palms reminding him that it wasn't all in his imagination.  
  
The chain seemed to lighten his spirits and made Harry feel somehow more complete. He held the amulet, which was no longer reacting to his body, in his hand and considered taking off the chain and putting it back on the shelf where he found it, but instead he tucked the jewel underneath his shirt. Harry took a relatively small sack of wizard money, enough to purchase supplies for school and for some 'extracurricular activities', that happened to involve a ferret and his two ape companions.   
  
With his money bag safely put into the folds of his robes and the blue jewel amulet resting against the skin of his chest, Harry strolled out of his ancestral vault closing the door behind him and stepping into the Gringotts cart, eager to get back above ground.   
  
*****   
  
*****   
  
Harry emerged from the Bank to find a very irate Ron Weasley standing outside by himself, impatiently waiting for one of his best friends to come out from the building.  
  
"What took you so bloody long Harry?!" Ron snapped at his friend, as soon as Harry had reached 'snapping distance' from him. "Lets go to the Leaky Cauldron. We are already 15 minutes late for our meeting with Hermione. Mum and Ginny went ahead with Fred and George to meet up with and to assure her that we would be showing up. Honestly Harry... did the cart break down on you or something? My brother Bill told me a story once about how -  
  
"Ron," Harry interceded calmly as they walked down the Alley amid the countless hurried pedestrians, "you're babbling."  
  
Ron stopped in mid-sentence and also in his tracks, his mouth imitating a fish's remarkably. He recovered hurried along to catch up with Harry, clearly embarrassed as given evidence by his red ears. "Right. Um. Sorry about that mate," he said, as the pair walked briskly to the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
Upon arriving, the two boys saw the rest of the distinctive red-headed family huddled around a table with a single brown puffy haired head with them. They made their way through the crowd of patrons, who were ill tempered about being bumped into by the large red haired teenager, but wisely didn't say anything as, again, he was a very large boy. Harry followed calmly behind his friend, apologizing for spilled drinks and hurt feelings that the victims of Ron's haste were grumbling about.  
  
"Hi Mum", Ron said, approaching the table at last. "Hi Mio-- Hermione". 'Mione had been Ron's nickname for his one time girlfriend for the past year or so, but he didn't feel comfortable saying it right then in front of his family, and with what had happened between the two.  
  
Hermione was uncharacteristically meek, and actually lowered her head slightly at Ron's cool and strained greeting. "Hi Ron," she managed and quickly occupied herself with a sip of her drink.  
  
Harry joined up with the crowd at last, after picking up the last chair that Ron had unconsciously tipped over on his journey through the inn-cum-tavern-cum-restaurant. "Hi Hermione," Harry said in a quiet collected voice, that the Weasley family had come be familiar with over the past two weeks, very different from the Harry of years past.   
  
Hermione, still not looking up towards her two best friends, responded "Hello Harry.  
  
"Come along now children," Mrs. Weasley abruptly said. "Why don't you and Harry get something to drink along with Hermione, Ron" Mrs. Weasley commanded more than asked. "We'll see you dears at Madam Malkin's shop when you are good and ready."   
  
"Yes Mum," Ginny and the twins chorused as they quickly slid out of the booth and slid away, following their mother outside into the warm sunshine of Diagon Alley. Hermione lifted her head quickly at this with a frantic gleam in her eye, but then sighed and focused her attention to the table in front of her.  
  
Harry nudged Ron into the booth on the side opposite to Hermione and then took a seat next to him. Harry snickered internally as he observed Ron's attention never waver from Hermione. Harry then choked back another chuckle when he saw that Hermiones eyes were focused on her drinking glass, which somehow she had charmed to reflect Ron's face into it.  
  
Harry amusedly said, "I need to go get something... from somewhere. I'll meet you guys at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor when you're finished," and he quickly slid and left Ron and Hermione both glaring at his back as he made his escape.  
  
Ron and Hermione both turned back to face each other at the same time looking at each other in the eyes, and then turned away simultaneously, both blushing and quickly looking back down.  
  
Ron cleared his throat and said, "Err, Hermione. I'm really sorry for neglecting you this summer, and I hope we can still work out our relationship...". Ron trailed off seeing a glimmer of a tear in Hermiones eye, and immediately looked back down and sighed, about to start anew.  
  
"OH Ron!" Hermione exclaimed looking back up, rather fiercely, startling Ron in the process. "I'm so sorry for being such a git. I hope you would still be" Hermione paused, and then not quite as ferociously said, "my boyfriend."  
  
"No hard feelings then?" Ron asked her hopefully. His reinstated girlfriend shook her head intensely, causing Ron to give a mighty grin. "Well then, this is for you 'Mione," he said pulling out a jewelry box from inside the folds of his robes...   
  
*****   
  
*****   
  
Half an hour later found Ron and Hermione staring at each other over a shared cup of poppin berry ice cream and a very exasperated Harry was sitting off to the side, thoroughly excluded and exasperated.   
  
"I'm going to Madam Malkins now," Harry said, suddenly rising from his seat. "We've kept your mum waiting long enough as it is.... Ron? Hermione?"  
  
Unfortunately for Harry, there seemed to be a spell around the two that his words couldn't penetrate which left him feeling very abused and neglected.   
  
Harry punched Ron on the shoulder lightly to no effect. Seeing as more force was required, and also because of his frustration at being ignored, Harry reared up and unleashed a powerful blow to Ron's unsuspecting shoulder, knocking the red headed boy to the ground.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione yelled, as she got up quickly and went to Ron's side. "There was no need for that at all!" She picked up Ron and helped him dust of his crumpled and dirty robes.  
  
Ron was still dazed from Hermione's proximity and the force of the blow, so he had nothing to say.   
  
Harry snorted at this and repeated, "I'm going to Madam Malkin's now." He smiled irritatingly, and continued, "don't you think we've spent enough time... talking. Everyone must be quite curious as to what we've been doing all this time, and I just might tell them!  
  
Hermione and Ron both blushed at this and quietly muttered "okay, okay" and followed Harry to the shop, where everyone else had been fitted. Hermione already had gotten her robes, and Mrs. Weasley had taken the liberty of purchasing robes for Ron and Harry from approximate measurements, which were very accurate as she had five boys before Ron.   
  
"Hey Ron, how do you fancy we take a look at the brooms now, before we head back? I want to check if there are any new mods for the Firebolt released," Harry asked his friend.  
  
One of the lesser known but more spectacular features of the Firebolt were that there were some slots available so the broom could later be customized with new features that the company released later. The apparatus was quite ingenious, involving taking out a very small bolt of wood and replacing it with a charmed bolt designated to have a special feature for the broom. To prevent tampering, and to maintain a monopoly, the Firebolt manufacturers had a specially designed magical signature so that only their charmed bolts could be used in the broom.  
  
"Sure!" Ron said enthusiastically, eager to do anything involving brooms, and more importantly quiddich. "Lemme go an' ask Mum."  
  
Just as Ron turned around, a chill swept through Diagon Alley reminiscent of a cold Feburary storm, which was odd because it was the start of August and by all accounts the weather should have been warm and nice consistently.   
  
Ginny turned and shivered pulling her red summer robes close around her and huddled closer to her mum and Hermione, who had elected to forego the pleasures of seeing the latest in quiddich equipment.   
  
Suddenly, a shadow emerged, started from the north side of the alley and expanding southward covering every inch of the alley. Everywhere the shadow touched a bit of frost appeared and people caught in there keeled over and seemed to open their mouths in silent screams of fear, with tears flowing freely from even the oldest of Wizards.   
  
Harry looked up to the source of the shadow and saw the most awesome and terrible single sight he had ever observed in his short but eventful life. Above Diagon Alley flew a white dragon with shimmering bright scales adorning every part of its beautiful body. As the dragon flapped its great wings, artic-cold winds buffeted the helpless crowds beneath it. The extraordinary aspect of this dragon was that it was extremely large, even by standards of dragons. Harry recalled his experiences with Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback, and noted with alarm that it would take at the very least six dragons of that already grand size to fit into the torso of the dragon currently above him, not even counting the long neck and the large maw of the creature. This dragon could have had two dragons the size of the one guarding Gringotts for breakfast. As the great white dragon flew over him, casting the dark shadow over him and his friends, Harry alone remained standing as the others immediately fell to the ground along with others in the alley. Only Ron showed some resistance and while he was forced to his knees, but did not look afraid. Instead, he appeared fierce and angry at the creature that dared to do this to him.  
  
"My God," croaked Mrs. Weasley, her eyes wide and terrified. Her face was almost as pale as the leathery wings of the creature above them, as to match the pallor on the faces of her children, which provided an eerie image because of their sharply contrasting red hair.   
  
Harry looked back up to the Great White above him, coming to the realization that the crowd around him was falling victim to dragonfear. Dragonfear was a power that all dragons possessed, but no dragons had the power to truly terrify people into such a state according what Harry recalled of Hagrid's lecture on the magical creatures. The dragons he was familiar with, like the Common Welsh Green, the Norwegian Ridgeback, the Swedish Short-Snout, and the Chinese Fireball used the power to frighten rabbits and other small prey that they hunted into a docile paralyzed state so they could be easier to pick off, but they could never elicit such a response on life bigger than the size of a deer. This dragon radiated not only dragonfear and coldness, but also Harry could sense a wrongness and evil aura about the creature, as if it was fully aware of its actions and consciously enjoyed the humans' misery.   
  
Harry shivered, but not because of fear of the dragon or the coldness it produced. He shivered because of the realization that the dragon wasn't from this world. 'It must be a creature of the Abyss and is going to the service of its master, Lord Voldemort.'   
  
Turning away from the quiddich store, Harry coolly marched to Flourish and Blotts without having anyone pay attention to him as he needed to pick up something that his friends didn't need to know about, and this was as good an opportunity as he would get. He picked up his textbooks and an extra text on the art of dueling and fighting the dark arts, appropriately titled Dueling and Otherwise Fighting the Dark Arts, Advanced Edition from a dazzled and disoriented clerk, who had some small protection from the dragonfear from being inside of the building. Harry decided to wait inside for his friends rather than see them in their undignified positions. 'I wouldn't want them to see me if I were like this,' flowed Harry's train of thought.   
  
Ten minutes later Ron staggered in, still a little pale, to find Harry calmly waiting by the entrance of the store. He gave the excuse that fear of the dragon made him go inside, although the Great White had very little effect on Harry other than the surprise at seeing such a unique and singularly malicious creature. Eventually, the rest of the family came in. Not mentioning his extra text, he and the rest made their way to the Leaky Cauldron very quietly as young children that were most affected by the dragon were groggily being awoken by their concerned parents.   
  
Harry trudged up to his room, saying good night to his companions, who were all in a dazed and anti-social state, and settled in for a long night, sure to be filled with dreams of terrible things. Feeling the urge, Harry conjured up an illusion of a sugarplum that pranced gaily around his head, for the purpose giving his head not-to-subtle hints to what he wanted to be dreaming of that night. Harry lay down and prayed that the sugarplum treatment worked, and managed to fall asleep right away with a small trickle of drool coming from his mouth. 


	5. Chapter 04

Ch. 4  
  
Sirius Black, ex-convicted felon and the only known escapee of the infamous Wizard prison, Azkaban – that is, before the now infamous Breaking of Azkaban (a.k.a. The Dementor Insurgence) that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named orchestrated – paced sullenly over a well worn piece of carpet in the office of the much distinguished Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The book-laden shelves were also the home of numerous trinkets that shined and twirled in different but intriguing patterns. The carpet was soft and luxurious and to one side laid a low pensieve, while on the other corner stood a tall stand upon which a most magnificent bird was sitting.  
  
"I don't like it either," the old man said from behind his large desk, deep dark bags underneath his eyes which had a determined spark instead of the cheerful twinkle he had a few years ago, before the reemergence of the Dark Lord.  
  
Continuing the argument that had been going on for some time now, the old Headmaster continued, "Our spies within the Dark Lord's legions verified this... Wormtail was thrown into some place called the Abyss, which supposedly will give Tom unparalleled power. If it is true, that Tom now has power exceeding the combined might of the Founding Four, we must draw on all of our resources. We must make use of our trump card – Harry Potter. Thanks to his dreams, we are already able to save lives of many innocent wizards and witches. Imagine the potential advantages our side will glean if we actually make active use of him!  
  
"The answer remains no, Albus," Sirius said firmly. "I don't want Harry to be given full status in the Order of Phoenix yet. He hasn't even completed his seventh year here, let alone had proper Auror training yet! He doesn't even know the basics of the Monstrum Refuto series of spells. And I don't care how bloody brilliant you think Harry is, it took James two years to master the Absentis Infectis Factum while it took the rest of us trainees almost the full three, and those are some of the most critical spells needed to fight the Deatheaters and their minions!   
  
The Headmaster got up from his chair slowly and turned to stroke his phoenix, Fawkes. His shoulders were drooped, but he still cut a strong figure, standing straight and tall, with deep blue robes trailing on the ground behind him. His head was bare now, and his hair seemed grayer than ever as he turned to look at the grounds through his large window.   
  
"You are right, Sirius," Professor Dumbledore said at last, with a uncharacteristic sigh. "Despite all the situations Harry has been through, he is yet a child and should be afforded as much normality as can be expected in these times. We shall treat him simply as a Head Boy – or at least try to. You know first hand how things can get with Harry...  
  
The old Professor sat back down, sinking into his large chair .   
  
"Enough about young Harry. We have other more pressing matters to discuss, such as the recent abduction of Remus Lupin, Lyndo Marx, Pagus Lee, Prin Tuffle, Ruby Wilkins, Andy Hordes and the others, and the plans for their recovery  
  
Sirius grimaced at the memory, as he recalled how Remus had been lost in the last skirmish that the Order had with Voldemort's forces in Elks Nook, England. Intelligence had discovered that several Deatheaters, along with dark creatures such as dementors and giants, were going to destroy and generally wreak havoc upon the small muggle village of Elks Nook in the Scottish foothills. The Order of Phoenix members, almost 125 volunteers strong, attempted to evacuate the village and hold back the forces of the Dark Lord as best they could, although they were hopelessly outnumbered and out powered. Remus had been on the front lines of the defenders and got isolated from the others by two giants and a dementor. Sirius heard this all second hand, as he was on the other end of the field fighting several of the Deatheaters. Remus was more familiar with dark creatures so he naturally gravitated towards the vicious giants and the insatiable dementors and other horrid creatures. Almost a month had passed since that day, and there was still no word of Remus and some seventeen others who were involved in the fighting. This was peculiar because the old Deatheaters would have asked for some kind of ransom or at least bragged about the capture of the prisoners. It wasn't Voldemort's style to be subtle.   
  
"We haven't been able to find much, sir," Sirius said with no small amounts of disgust in his voice. "We have received little official aid from the Ministry and their Aurors, as all of our allies there are busy with the issue of IAAP, the international aid program of whatnow. I can't believe Arthur would just desert Remus and the Order like this. Doesn't he remember who put his life on the line and saved him from the Deatheater at the New Year's Massacre!?  
  
"Yes, but Arthur saved Remus and you as well just minutes later, as you will recall," Albus countered in a calm voice.  
  
Sirius stopped his pacing and looked up, his eyes flashing angrily at this.  
  
"Bah, you know what I mean! He and the others should be more -  
  
"More what, Sirius?" Dumbledore calmly interjected. "More concerned with the Order of Phoenix, instead of the entirety of the international wizarding community? No! We cannot afford to alienate our foreign allies now, in these darkest hours of our existence, even if it comes at great cost. We'll just have to make do with what we have. Tell me, have you unearthed anything at all?" he queried, at last calming the raging man in front of him.  
  
Sirius at last took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the large desk, and sat back to collect his thoughts. He, of course, had been at the head of the recovery expedition that the Order of Phoenix launched. He hadn't recieved a single iota of aid from the Minister, who still treated him like a criminal despite his clearance and proven innocence. Any official efforts were slow in coming and much too little, and soon, Sirius felt, it would be too late.   
  
"From the reports that our spies gave, all the signs indicate that Voldemort has already left the country with a few of his elite Deatheaters. According to rumor, he also has convened other elite Deatheaters from around the globe that he had recruited back in his first reign of terror for a secret meeting somewhere, but as you are well aware, that is still not confirmed," Sirius said. He paused a minute to take a deep breath before continuing, "We also have learned that the attack on Elk's Nook was more for the purpose of satisfying the dementors and giants. The dementors need to... feed," he shuddered, "and the giants simply were restless and getting in the mood for violence. The location of the prisoners is still unsure because only the remaining upper level Deatheaters have an idea of where they might be. Most of our experts agree that it's highly likely they are no longer in England any more.  
  
"Yes, yes, this is all old news," said the Professor impatiently, "go on."  
  
"Recent evidence from our contacts in Norway indicates that there is a flurry of Deatheater activity, and supposedly the construction of some sort of structure. Several people have theorized that this might be a new base of location for the Dark Lord and that prisoners might be kept in dungeons near there, or actually in the building itself.   
  
"I see."  
  
"I suggest that we send a few members of the Order, me included, to go investigate this matter further. There is much to be gained from this even beyond the prisoners, such as a map to the stronghold before they make it unplottable," Sirius put forth, in his most suave and persuasive voice.  
  
"I think that's a good idea Sirius. Gather a small team of six that aren't immediately involved in other business, and we'll start preparations immediately.  
  
"Excellent Professor," said Sirius, as he stood up again, his eyes lighting up after a large period of dark melancholy. "I'll owl you when I am ready," he said as he walked towards the door.  
  
"Do take care," the old Headmaster said softly, receiving only the slamming of the door in response. He sat down and looked towards the nearly full moon through his window. At last he turned away from the sight he wasn't really looking at, and focused on the paperwork lying scattered around on his desk.   
  
If he was a centaur, Dumbledore would have seen that the stars weren't aligned in a very favorable position for the side of Light. He might have seen the emergence of Mars, brighter than it had ever been since the passing of the Ancients. As it was, he didn't even see the smoke from the centaurs meeting, as they gathered around near the center of the Forbidden Forest, preparing to meet and guide the one that was prophesized to come. The old man was so very tired and already had too much to think about that night, as it would not be too far from the truth to say that the fate of the world rested on his shoulders.  
  
*****   
  
*****   
  
It was two days until Draco would be forced to go back to that infernal cesspool of mudbloods and mudblood lovers, notably Dumbledore, Potty, Weasel, and the Know-It-All, and the young man was more than a little displeased at this. Since last summer, his mother had been tutoring him in the Dark Arts but he was unable to practice what he had learned at school because of the restrictions on magic by underage wizards. Even though his father was Minister, if the Ministry discovered the nature of the spells the family would be ruined. As such, the only time he could really practice his magic was at school, but that was difficult for obvious reasons. Dark magic was so beautiful to him, so lucrative, for a number of very good reasons. First of all, it was his heritage; his entire line were practitioners of the dark arts in one way or another, and it was a family myth that one of their ancestors was actually a vampire. Of course, some lesser born and ignorant wizards and witches would be horrified, but that was because they were simply lesser born and ignorant. There was no higher honor than having blood of the ancients, and none greater than the blood of the immortal vampires. Draco knew that the power existed for people to use it, so it was very frustrating to deal with all these comparative difficult and inane spells that students were forced to learn at Hogwarts.   
  
The young Malfoy heir was sitting properly in the second formal dining room (the first being reserved for important occasions or for his fathers 'private business') of his mansion along with his father and mother, as he sat recalling the events that transpired last year at school that caused him to hate every aspect of it – that is, hate it even more than before. The betrayal of Snape was almost too much for him to bear and he was at a point actually considering killing his head of house, but his father had forcefully reminded him of the image that needed to be kept up until the Dark Lord's forces eventually overcame the feeble Ministry, which was unwittingly being led by a Deatheater. Snape had informed the order of the crow, or whatever they were calling it, that the Dark Lord was at last going to get rid of Harry Potter once and for all. Because of Snape's interferance, the plan went awry causing Vincent's father, the older Mr. Crabbe to be killed. The only bright spot in the whole business was that the Dark Lord most wisely was aware of Snape's weakness and had planned a strategic retreat for his more trusted servants, such as Lucius.  
  
'Potter,' Draco thought in one of his common moments of relatively indiscriminate and random bouts of rage, shuddering and crinkling his nose in disgust at even thinking the name, 'gets all the fame and respect because his mudblood mother gave him a charm before she croaked. He's not even rich! Someday my lord will allow me dispose of that jackal!' Scowling, he finished the thought viciously, 'Then we will see who is a better wizard.'  
  
The opulent surroundings were lost on Draco as he scrunched up his face in frustration, and ate his morning meal of oatmeal, eggs benedict, and french toast on a golden plate, shined to a point where it glowed by a nameless and unthanked house elf, along with an expensive looking crystal bowl laden with fresh fruit. Above the table was a beautiful crystal chandelier charmed to swivel around in a circular fashion, causing shimmering colors to dance on the walls. Instead of displaying all the colors, which was ridiculously difficult to charm and also, in Draco's opinion, rather silly, the colors that were shown were green and silver. The chairs he and his family were sitting on were nothing but the finest of Chinese silk and stuffed with feathers of the now extinct Dodo bird.  
  
"Father," Draco began for the third time that morning, "You MUST do something about the senile headmaster! He is ruining the education of countless wizards and witches by allowing the threat of mudbloods and half-bloods to be in our presence, completely out of their given spot in civilized society. Not only are they inferior in power, they are dragging the rest of us down with their terrible manners and unpleasant and barbaric muggle ways. Not only that, we're learning more useless magic than important essential spells. What use does the Jelly Legs Jinx have in real life!? We should be learning how to perform spells that are applicable to the real world!  
  
Draco continued to eloquently rehash the same ideas that been rolling through Lucius' own mind for several years in drawn out and well reasoned arguments. He was rather proud of the boy in that regard. Despite the poor education he was forced to endure, he was still developing into a fine young man. Ever since he had gotten the coveted position of Minister of Magic, he had longed to do just that - get rid of that mudblood loving old codger, who remained a thorn in the side of his master, and the entire true pure blood wizarding world. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord had felt that it wasn't yet time to make a move on England, because it has the greatest organized Wizarding community and as such, the most powerful defenses against any assault.   
  
Voldemort's plan was to focus on a single country at a time in his campaign for global conquest, and all the while create chaos in the rest of the… unenlightened …world. Lucius' assignment was to prevent the forces of Light from growing strong and to disrupt the society, leaving the country unprepared for the eventual assault. The elite Deatheater's mouth twisted into a grimace as he remembered the last time that he had attempted to convince the Dark Lord that it would be best to take action immediately to remove all of the high level officials that were not on the right side; that is, Voldemorts side. The price for that small contention had been paid for at a dear price as the Dark Lord had made it quite lucid to Lucius who exactly was in charge, with a lesser variation of the Cruciatus curse that was very painful. No, ever since the contract made with the Abyss, Lord Voldemort could not be reasoned with at all, even by his most loyal and trusted servants.   
  
Mentally shuddering again at the recollection, Lucius turned from the Daily Prophet to give his son a piercing look that forced the young man to quit his arguments and look down at his plate and continue to sullenly eat the five star breakfast in front of him. He turned to look at his wife who was eating her own breakfast calmly and very properly, ignoring the conversation around her. It was quite annoying that she was unwilling to talk sense into the boy, even though as a Deatheater she herself knew of the true situation.   
  
Lucius turned back to his son, and said after a few long moments, "Draco, I wanted that old kook out of office as soon as possible when I became Minister but there are certain circumstances that have forced me to, shall we say reconsider, my position. Trust me, son, when I say that my actions are for the greater good of our Purpose.  
  
Folding his paper and excusing himself from the table, Lucius got up from the table and said, "I am going to work now Narcissa, Draco," giving his beauteous but cold wife a chaste kiss on the cheek. Going towards the great fireplace he said calmly, "Oh, and Draco. Do not bring up the subject again, if not for me, then for your own sake."  
  
"Yes father," Draco replied dutifully in a monotone voice, but his face paled significantly at the implied threat. When Lucius Malfoy gave 'advice' of that sort, anyone who ever dealt with him in the past knew it wasn't to be taken lightly no matter how colloquially it may have been offered.   
  
Suddenly not very hungry, Draco politely asked his mother, "May I be excused now Mother," not allowing the fear of the consequences of his father's threat creep in his voice.  
  
"Very well Draco. Go read chapter nineteen of your Dark Arts edition. I expect you to know it thoroughly when I meet with you this afternoon," Narcissa responded coolly, as she too rose.   
  
Kissing his mother properly on her pale cheek, Draco responded "Yes Mother," as he left to go up to his own personal study and get started on the fascinating chapter on spells that increased the strength of the caster, though at the expense of victims.   
  
*****   
  
*****   
  
Lucius Malfoy sat behind a large and ornate desk in his private office at the Ministry of Magic. The room was decorated to Lucius' taste, complete with black velvet curtains that were similar to the fabrics used to make the his Deatheater robes, and was designed primarily to intimidate anybody who came up to see him. The room itself was quite large, with raised ceilings, and was lit by a low, dim chandelier in the center of the chamber which, by virtue of its strategic location, cast long shadows all over the room to create a somewhat sinister atmosphere. One might have been surprised to not see any human skulls scattered about on the polished onyx marble floor. The only dichotomy to the black in the room that was offered were slivers of silver on the walls that were actually silver stands where Lucious kept expensive vases crafted of fine China and the rarest white gold.   
  
On two of the four sides of the office were long, tall bookshelves with a great many volumes of legal books containing the ancient and archaic code of the wizards that had been written by the earliest civilized Wizards, who in their great wisdom formulated a system that had lasted until modern times allowing for adaptation with the changing world. On top of the bookshelves, active wizard pictures depicted the former Ministers of Magic. If one were to observe, it could be seen that the politicians were constantly moving from frame to frame, still practicing politics and schmoozing with one another. All were trying to win each other over and become the undisputed Minister of Former Ministers of Magic. Along with the large dust collecting tomes, there were bottles of expensive liquor and even a magically refrigerated area that was the home of chilled fine wines. The cups kept next to them were all made of crystal, with gold and silver rims to them making them look elegant even among relative splendor. Behind the large Ministers desk, the third wall was occupied almost exclusively with a large window that had a fantastic view over a small park, but the windows and the light behind them was covered by the thick black curtains. On the last wall, opposite to the Minister's desk was a grand doorway, and tapestries hung about depicting famous events in English wizarding history, although the dim lighting made it hard to see what was really going on.   
  
A scratchy voice magically rang out from the back right corner of the room causing Lucius to look up irately from the paperwork he was completing, a formal refusal to pass whatever dimwitted plan Arthur Weasley and his foolish cohorts were trying to get done now. Even though the family wasn't very well respected, Lucius thought that the Weasleys would be able to join the right side if they properly applied themselves, but it wasn't any of his business. If they foolishly persisted in fighting for the wrong side, in favor of mudbloods and evil, they would get what they deserve.  
  
"Minister Malfoy," the scratchy voice of his elderly secretary came through, "Mr. Macnair is here to see you about concerns for rights and restrictions for magical creatures in west Scotland as pets." Clearing her throat noisily, which caused Malfoy to crinkle his nose in disgust, she asked, "Are you ready to recieve him?", fully expecting him to say no.  
  
"Send him in Margaret," Lucius said after saying a word and delicately flicking his wand for the intercom spell.  
  
Macnair was a surly man, solidly built and tough, with raw physical strength comparable to Goyles', which along with his willingness to kill and keen rationale had helped him rise to the high position among Deatheaters that he currently held. Few had known that Macnair and he vied for the top position in England among the Deatheaters remaining here, which nearly resulted in a few violent episodes. Eventually, Lucius became the head of the organization in Great Britain under the Dark Lord because of his more polished manner and his vast family holdings, which also served him in his bid for position in the Ministry. The Minister made a few motions with his mahogany wand and muttered sonitus obex, creating a sound barrier around the room. Macnair strode into the room boldly, all the features of the room meant to strike fear failing miserably with this man. He wore blood-red dragon skin boots and a black cape that seemed to shimmer, along with finely made dark green robes.  
  
"Malfoy," Macnair greeted after the door had been closed and privacy was ensured.  
  
"Welcome to my humble abode," Lucius said dryly in response holding his arms out wide as he stood up, making the simple act of courtesy seem more into a mockery.  
  
Macnair easily ignored Malfoy's annoying attempts to irritate and intimidate him, and continued onward towards the desk sitting near the large windows. He wasn't afraid of a man so spoiled that he wouldn't know the business end of a broom if his life depended on it. As for himself, well, Torvald Macnair had been brought up in the bosom of evil. He knew far worse fears than Lucius Malfoy ever could dream of. Although he did not possess the wealth of the arrogant man in front of him, he more than made up for it in tenacity and willingness to get a job done by any means necessary.  
  
Macnair stopped short of the chairs in front of the Ministers desk, not bothering to sit down.  
  
"I have received word from our Lord that everything is going to plan in Brazil and the tribes will be eliminated, paving the way to the rest of South America and Africa also, as you well know. The Portal has yet to be uncovered but progress is great." Macnair stopped his tirade for a short breath before continuing the report. "Our Lord has instructed for another attack, this time at Hogsmeade preferably when the most possible destruction and chaos has a chance of being caused. He has also instructed that the prisoners be moved to Sweden as soon as possible, as our spies have indicated that the Order may have become aware of the Gatehouse that is being built to protect the European Portal in Norway. Prisoners are less important than the project so we must lead the Order away from the Gatehouse. The attack will serve the dual purposes of distracting our enemies from Norway and also to satisfy the ... cravings of the Dementors.  
  
Lucius sat back and reclined in his chair contemplating the news and thinking of courses of action that needed to be undertaken. The Portals were devices of the Ancients that involved incredible amounts of Wild Magic that harnassed natures forces to create links between continents or although there were more than one Portal in each continent. The stories of the Portals had been lost to the majority of the wizarding world before myths were old, but Voldemort had somehow come to find out about them in his studies of the dark arts. The portals were of great importance for conquest because they would enable the armies of the Dark Lord to transverse distances quickly and efficiently. Unfortunetly, the devices had to be activated first so they could not simply use one to find the others, and the locations of many of them were still unknown as references to them were vague and few.   
  
"I see," Lucius said as thought ran through his head and the dark wheels turned round and round, "You may convey to Lord Voldemort that I shall start planning immediately, and that the prisoners will be moved to caves in the Alps before the end of the week." Sitting down again, he continued "If that is all," said with an air of finality and impatience.   
  
"Thats not all Malfoy," Macnair said brutally, his savage nature very much present in his usually docile demeanor. "The Dark Lord has instructed me to make you aware that our next campaign will be on South Africa. We have reason to suspect that there is a Portal located nearby, either on the main continent or on the island of Madagascar. You are to sever relationships between those southern nations and the rest of the wizarding world by January of next year. A last point of interest was that your son's request to become a Deatheater Officer elite has been granted by the Dark Lord, and upon his completion of," Macnair sneered, "education, he is to be taken to the Dark Lord to be initiated."  
  
"Thank you Mr. Macnair," Lucius said, happy internally that his son had done well enough to become an elite Deatheater, following in his father's footsteps. Not allowing any emotion to come to his face or voice, he said, "If that is all, you may see yourself out." Unraveling the charm that kept their words secret, he gave a few remarks on the bill, totally meaningless, for the benefit for his secretary.  
  
Leaning back on his chair and picking up his daily calander, looking at his deep dark curtins without seeing, Lucius thoughtfully wrote a note to remind himself to ask Draco to inform him of any Hogsmeade trips that the docile headmaster would allow the children this year once he got to school. This was almost too easy. 


	6. Chapter 05

Harry Potter and the Legacy of Merlin  
Chapter 5

  


The domed circular chamber was lit only by four torches, that seemed much too small to be able to light up the large area. Each torch was positioned above an ornate door decorated with images depicting destruction and infernal flames, which were in four equidistant corners of the round room going north, south, east, and west. All around the room there were men, heavily cloaked in fine and expensive black garments, all standing with arrogance and pride at being allowed into the dark and dank cavern. At the exact center of the room, there was a raised platform upon which rested a throne, carved from a single piece of black stone, which was darker than the dead of night and seemed to absorb light, heat, and even happiness. The horror of the throne was not only matched, but dominated by the person who rested upon it.   


Lord Voldemort sat on his throne, carved meticulously from a single Abyss rock by skilled magical artisians in one of the slave camps his Deatheaters set up in Brazil. He sat back and relaxed, satisfied with his accomplishments so far. His forces had taken almost all of the magical strongholds, including the capital, but were still opposed by guerrilla warfare from the Shaman that lived in the vast forests of the Amazon. His will was not to be thwarted, however, and he already had several spies and agents in the Shaman tribes, and even turned two of the seven tribes to his side. The artifacts that these Shaman owned were said to be of great power, as some of the old civilizatons of the Ancients were located here, and their legacy was lying around for the misuse of the bumbling and unsophisticated tribespeople. Once he conquered this land he would search out for the magical items. He looked around now, to all of his most elite and high ranked Deatheaters from around the world who were in his throne room to attend him.   


Voldemort raised his gnarled left hand slightly and the low whispers ceased leaving complete and utter silence.   


"Sanchez," Voldemort intoned in a hollow and resounding voice, "What have you to report on the issue of renegade Shaman tribes"  


"My Lord," a silky voice responded with a distinct but not unplesant accent, "As you had foreseen they are recieving no aid from any foreign wizarding powers. The scum are all trying to fortify themselves and have no effort to spare for the sake of the tribes. The Zylimba and Minumbee are on our side and have strategically maneuvered to be able to attack the others from behind when they attempt to launch a counter attack. We will attack with the new moon, when the power of the destructor del alma becomes strongest.  


Voldemort smiled to himself grotesquely at the good news, his face contorting in such a way that even the most stalwart of his Deatheaters looked down to hold their meals. The destructor del alma, or dementors were gathering in force for a final seige on the magic users in this country. Then the Abyss forces, led by the Dark Lord, would turn its eyes on parts of Africa. The fools didn't realize that with the Portals, it was possible to attack from anywhere to anywhere else. It is not necessary to attack exactly conjoining nations as in muggle fashion. Let them prop up their defenses however they liked. In the end, nothing could save them from oblivian or a life of servitude to the rightful masters of the earth.  


"What of the artifacts and the Portal?  


"My Lord, we are combing the rain forests with the aid of our tribal allies. So far we haven't located any evidence of the Olde Ones other than some roughly carved stones, which seem to indicate that the Portal is in fact somewhere in the rain forest. It seems as though the land itself is fighting our efforts.  


The foreign Deatheater was discomforted by this news, but did not dare to lie because the wrath of the Dark Lord for telling untruth was even greater than his fear of telling the bad news. He grew even more discomforted when the torches all flickered out in unision, plunging the hall into a darkness blacker than night. Eerie enough as this one, the presence of a sound of scratching, like steel on stone brought up the level of nervousness among the Deatheaters to a palpable level because they all recalled Nagini, Lord Voldemorts most trusted servant was among them. Nagini had grown stronger since Voldemort came to his new powers, making the dark green scales into pure midnight black ones, running all over the body. On the back of the great serpent there were intricate and unfanthomable designs of green, striking out eerily as they glowed in the dark. The glowing allowed the Deatheaters to follow the movement of the great snake with their eyes, while the rest of their body stood shock still as if afflicted with rigor mortis.   


Sanchez beyond all the others was mortified as he was standing in front of the Dark Lord immediately, and there were tears welling up in his dark brown Brazilian eyes contorted in fear, as he dropped to his knees to beg forgiveness from his lord. His mouth opened to beg protest but he couldn't manage any sound. It seemed to him that the darkness swallowed the sound before he could even get a peep in, but it may have been possible that he had unwittingly swallowed his own tongue at this point.  


Voldemort looked down on his frightened minions, as they controlled their breathing in fear of exciting Nagini into attacking them, or worse being tortured by the Lord of the Abyss. He knew each of them plotted against each other subtlely in order to gain favor, and he allowed this. He just enjoyed watching them sweat and remember that their Lord was still the absolute master. Raising one finger almost casually when a full two minutes had passed, the torches again in unision flickered back into existance, crackling maliciously. To the humbled Deatheaters, the dim torch light now seemed brighter than the midday sun as it contrasted sharply with the ebony darkness that had engulfed them. They were too diciplined to raise their hands to cover their eyes, a sure sign of weakness though some clenched their eyes such to keep from the burning glare. 

"Very well, enough. Leave me," Voldemort said after several long moments of silence, Sanchez still quivering on his knees in front of him. At the words, all of the Deatheaters hurriedly scuried to evacuate the building, with a pale Sanchez leading the way.   


The leader of the Deatheaters rose from his dark throne and raised his hands, speaking a single word that caused the four doors of the chamber to close suddenly and to also simultaneously cause the dome to open by unfolding like the petals of a rose bud, to expose an even larger cavern. With one more word, he levitated into the the dark. As he moved upward, large shadowed shapes emerged around him.. Loudly saying the word "LUMOS", his voice resounding with power, a bright light popped into existance from the end of his hand, as he had disposed of his wand. A wand was a weakness, as he had learned three years ago when he was still a lesser being, and concerned about a mere child and an old old man.   


Voldemort smiled the second time that night, and faced a small army of Great Dragons of varying colors and sizes. He turned to the biggest and oldest of the Great Black dragons that were said to have arisen from the Abyss, and opened his mouth to speak his true plans for them in the battles ahead.  


*****

*****

The image faded out before Harry could see anything else that happened and all that was left was a burning pain that felt like someone had lit the frontal lobe of his brain with a fire and then dumped it into a vat of strong acid. Harry was well accustomed to this and he bore it with stoic and determined silence. He himself was sweating from fear that lingered from the darkness that he had experienced, which he likened to what a center of a black hole would be like. His body still trembled moments after the nightmare from the sight of how powerful Voldemort had become. Never before had he felt such raw waves of ... _something_ come from Voldemort in real life, let alone dreams. It seemed as though the Dark Lord had grown into the powers of Lord of the Abyss.   


He noted down the dreams message onto the pad he had next to him as best he could, though his hand shook terribly along with the rest of his quivering body, so that he would remember to send an owl to Professor Dumbledore of the treachery of the two Shaman tribes, the Zyimee and Milooba, though he was sure that he had messed up the names.   


Sitting up on his bed in the Leaky Cauldron, Harry leaned back and sighed. The pain, bad as it was, didn't last as long as it had before and he felt the cool reassuring presence of the amulet on his chest. He was about to get up to get himself a glass of water when a wave of dizziness hit him and he was forced to lay back down on his bed. His vision seemed to ripple, similar to how water ripples when a stone is thrown into it though it made him feel rather warm inside, as if he had eaten a box full of the best chocolate at Honeydukes and he was transported back into that room where he had first met his fabled ancestor.  


"Harry," Merlin said in a grandfatherly voice. "I see you have discovered the first stone of my staff. Or rather, it found you, it seems.   


"Wha," Harry groggily said, still shook up from his last nightmare even though the chocolate had served to calm him down. Harry felt, and probably looked, very confused at this statement causing Merlin to chuckle at the boys discomfort.  


"That is a tale of another time, my boy, as time is again limited," Merlin said quickly as he settled in a blue armchair that had appeared in front of Harry's position, which was a chair with fluffy orange cushions, to tell his tale. "I've come to warn you of the Great Dragons such as the one you saw earlier today."  


Harry looked up in astonishment, snapping out of his dazed state at the word. Before he could open his mouth, however, Merlin continued on.  


"Don't look surprised, I can tell you have seen it from the subtle changes in your body chemistry."  


Finding his voice, the scar faced boy quickly asked "How did you do that?"   


Merlin just chuckled and gave Harry a small wink, and proceeded onward not answering the question.  


"You see Harry, Great Dragons were created as a counter balance to the Olde Ones by the Abyss. As the Olde Ones, from whom you and I directly descend, and can be said to be for all intents and purposes, were made by the Creator, the Great Dragons were made by the Abyss. This is not to say that all of the powerful dragons are evil! I have read of the great Chromatic Dragons, who are said to have been just as powerful as the Great Dragons but for the side of good.  


Harry face was scrunched into a thoughtful expression as Merlin paused. Before the silver bearded man could recover his breath, Harry asked, "Have you actually seen them? You said you have read about them only.."  


"No Harry, they disappeared before my time. But that is besides the point. What I mean to tell you is that the Olde Ones are gifted with the power of being resistant to Dragonfear. That is why you were able to withstand the fear causing powers of the Great Dragons relatively well compared in your encounter. Again I beseech you, do not tell anyone of you heritage because the Abyss and the Darkside is everywhere, and we must remain discrete. If not, you will be crushed by Lord Voldemort. If your powers were more developed, you would not be affected at all by any amount of Great Dragons. Right now, if anyone untrue was made aware of your .. potential .. you would be helpless to do anything at all in the event of an attack by the powers.   


Harry tried to make a feeble protest, but Merlin cut him short.  


"Your past accomplishments mean nothing in the face of this new danger! The Abyss is the essence of evil and the Void. If you think that your wand magic is enough to pose a threat, you are sadly mistaken!" the old man said, getting riled up and excited to the point where he stood up.  


Merlin paced the length of the room several times, as Harry sat still in awe, and finally put his hand on the boy's shoulder before continuing.   


"Harry, I wish to impress upon you the need to seek out and know your heritage. While it can be said that many may have blood lines that can be traced to the Olde Ones, or even me, none can be like you." Merlin sadly continued, with a sorrowful light in his eyes, "I know this burden is great, because I myself had it thrust upon me, although I was was a bit older. You must bear the mantle of the Olde Ones and the entire Pantheon of Good for the sake of the future.  


Harry thought of all the arguments flying through his head... 'It must be someone else, certainly not me'...'I'm not worthy! There MUST be someone better than me out there!'...'Why don't you leave me alone and let me be normal!  


The last one was very resounding through his head, but he knew from his life starting with the Dursleys, nothing was ever easy. The world swirled in his eyes as everything blurred for a moment  


"Merlin," the youth said to the old man before him.   


Harry's words to his ancestor were hesitant, and still held awe in them. There was no doubt at all that the old man, who was so gentle and caring from Harry's experience, was the great wizard Merlin. It was not by anything that Harry could put into words, but it was in his heart stronger and more eloquent than anything his mind could ever express. This man was like him, more than the Dursleys, more than Ron or Hermione, and even more than Sirius. The old man looked up intently to his descendent. hopeful in looking for understanding. Even though he was captured in a dream essence, he was still able to think and was more intelligent and aware than those in the mortal plane.   


"Merlin," Harry queried almost frantically, but with a respectful tone to his voice , "Please, what must I do? Tell me where to find the Staff! Where can I find information about the Olde Ones or the Chromatic Dragons? How am I supposed to find out about everything without anyone's help?  


"You will find a way Harry," Merlin said mysteriously. "I regret that I cannot help you more directly, but the world has changed much since the times I lived there. If you could find my library, you would find much information. I know that it is a cursed forest, because I have hidden it well. With the blood of the Ancients in you veins, you need not fear the creatures such as the Brycious there, but I cannot remember much more.   


"There is a Forbidden Forest near my school, Hogwarts," Harry put in excitedly. "Do you suppose that is where your library is located?  


"I cannot say for certain. There should be centaur guardians. If it is truely the forest in which my library is hidden, you can summon them with the command "Dronack" at the edge of the forest. The centaur will ask you for a password, by the pact, which is "Klycos".  


Merlin began to fade away as ripples that had invoked the image reappeared, makeing everything unclear to Harry.  


"As it is, my time is up now Harry. Good luck in your ..." Merlin trailed away as the sounds of loud thumping roused Harry from the dream world into reality.  


"Harry! Harry!" Ron yelled from outside the door, banging on the door vigorously. "It's almost time to board the Express!"  


"Alright already Ron," Harry semi-shouted as he tried to rouse himself. "I'll meet you down for breakfast, go on ahead of me" Harry generously allowed although he was unwilling to open the door and allow the others to see his pale complexion and the dark bags beneath his eyes.  


"Okay!" Ron called back, eager as always to eat, and clobbered noisily down the rickety stairs of the inn. 

Harry groggily put on his spectacles and went through the motions of getting ready. Another night, another fright, he mused, but he resolutely straighened his back and walked out to meet his friends.  


*****

*****

"Hullo," greeted Seamus Finnegan with a grin on his cheerful face. Seamus had grown tall and more solid over the past few years at Hogwarts, but he was not at Ron's height but almost twice his girth. He stood on Platform 9 3/4 with a large blue trunk in tow along with Dean Thomas and Parvati Patel standing behind him, chatting intently with each other. 

"Hi Seamus," Ron called back to his long time dormmate and friend. "How was vacation? Good to see you're still in one piece!" he said as he took the arm draped on Hermiones shoulder down to shake hands with Seamus and then Dean.  


The Gryffindor friends caught up with each other for a few minutes longer, and then drifted away to find seats on the Scarlett Express train that had just opened its doors to the swarming multituede of students. Ginny waved to her brother and friends as Harry, Ron and Hermione hurried along, dragging their oversized trunks behind them, trying to find a place to sit as they passed her compartment.   


Sitting at last in the farthest compartment, Harry put down his cage and new trunk and tumbled onto his seat, weary to the bone. As his faithful companions were settling in, Harry's eyes drooped and he fell into another vision of death and destruction.  


Voldemort stepped through green foilage in some part of the vast amazon crushing life underneath him. The very dirt underneath him turned to charcoal as he slowly made his way towards some vague person pressed against a tree by some hex that left him in obvious pain. The Dark Lord relished in the man's suffering and fear, and came within three feet of the shabbily dressed South American before speaking.  


"Bruicch" Voldemort said in a form of greeting that managed to withold any concern or respect, but held a definite tone of contempt. "You see your resistance has failed. As I foretold, you were doomed to failure and now so many good wizards are dead..." He laughed, "or soon will be."  


In response the man spit at the Dark Lord to find his spittle evaporate a full foot away from Voldemort's face, causing the intended target to laugh coldly enough to make a neophyte Deatheater shiver in the hot tropical rain forest, despite his heavy black robes.   


"You refused the offers my men made for the location of the gateway but I am merciful. Give me the location of the Tropical Gateway and I shall let you free."  


After a pregnant pause of about thirty seconds, Voldemort again spoke. Only two words.  


"Avada Kedrava"  


Harry's world turned black 


End file.
